


Return

by LostCauses (Anteros)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Eruri Week, Eruri Week 2016, M/M, canonverse, eruri - Freeform, post ACWNR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anteros/pseuds/LostCauses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just stands there staring down at Levi.  Levi stares back, holding his gaze.  He could kill him here, now, it would be so easy.  He’s armed, Erwin’s injured, and there’s no one else about. But Erwin’s death would no longer serve any purpose.  So much has changed in these last twelve hours. Lifetimes have passed; Farlan’s, Isabel’s, what ever his own life was before.  The only connection to them he has left is the bloody badge crumpled in his pocket, this uniform and, somehow, this man standing in front of him. </p>
<p>Levi struggles to come to terms with Farlan and Isabel's death, and the immediate aftermath of the failed expedition.</p>
<p>Written for Canon Eruri Week 2016, Day 1 prompt - post ACWNR.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return

Levi remembers little of the ride back to base. He feels numb and disconnected, can’t quite process what’s going on around him. The only thing he seems able to focus on is the blond head of Erwin Smith riding ahead of him through the driving rain. He’s vaguely aware of Mike appearing beside him from time to time; dropping back to keep pace with him, before disappearing into the mist again. Levi just keeps his eyes fixed forwards, gripping the reins so tightly he can feel his nails cutting crescents into the palms of his hands, a thin thread of anger and despair pulling him onwards. 

It’s only when the gait of his horse changes that he registers their surroundings and realises they’ve started the long slow climb up to the base on the hilltop. That’s when he notices that the rain has stopped; dark clouds rolling away to the east leaving the sky a clear, pale, washed out blue. Levi’s horse has slowed to a weary trot, dropping back to the rear of the file, but he has no inclination to spur her on. He’s long since lost sight of Erwin and the head of the line. Behind him he can hear the sound of wheels bumping over the rutted track so he draws his mount to a halt to let the carts pass. One is loaded with injured soldiers, the other with the remains of the dead. He sits there and stares after them as they pull slowly up the hillside. It’s only when the rear guard rides past and someone yells at him to “get a fucking move on soldier” that he kicks his horse forward again.

Levi is the last to reach the base, by the time he enters the crumbling courtyard the expedition squad have dismounted and the rest of the corps have assembled. Most are silent, a few talking quietly in groups. One of the trainees is kneeling on the ground sobbing, an older soldier crouches by his side, arm around his shoulders. Levi slides off his horse, his legs feel like lead and he has to cling onto the saddlebow to stay upright. 

On the far side of the courtyard the dead are being unloaded from the cart and laid out in a line on the flagstones. He doesn’t count the number of tarpaulin-shrouded bodies, but it’s clear that Flagon’s squad wasn’t the only one to have been wiped out. He stands there staring at the line, breathing heavily, trying not to see the vivid image of Isabel’s head lying in the mud, eyes wide and glazed with shock, trying not to remember the way her lids had felt so soft and cool against his fingertips as he knelt to close her eyes. 

He has no idea how long he’s been standing there when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey there, are you okay soldier? Are you injured?” 

He turns and vaguely registers one of the squad medics. He shakes his head and walks away, unsteady on his feet. Maybe he is injured? He’s not sure, he can’t really feel anything. 

Somehow he finds his way to the hall that serves as their living and sleeping quarters and it’s only then that his surroundings really start to come into focus. Groups of soldiers are sitting or standing around in small groups, talking in subdued tones, some of the less traumatized are eating, others are cleaning their gear, one is sitting by the wall sobbing quietly.

The atmosphere is already subdued but it lowers a notch when Levi enters, the quiet conversations falter and he can feel their eyes on him. He keeps his head down, can’t face looking at anyone, not when he knows they’re staring at him with a mixture of curiosity, pity and fear. The muted hum of voices resumes as he passes through the hall, and he picks up snatches of conversation.

“…yeah, the kid from the underground…”

“…only one of Flagon’s squad. Shit poor Flagon.”

“Five solo kills? Seriously?” 

By the time Levi reaches the back of the hall where he’s stowed his kit, some sensation is starting to return to his limbs and that’s when he realises he’s filthy; caked in grime from head to foot. Suddenly he’s aware of the stench of blood and death clinging to his body. His breath catches, his skin crawls and he knows that he’ll suffocate if he doesn’t wash the filth from his skin. He struggles out of his gear, dropping it to the floor, and starts rummaging through his pack for clean clothes. His hands are shaking and he curses as he pulls fresh linen from the neat pile at the bottom of his kit then he almost runs through to the wash room, desperate to rid himself of the cloying grime.

The improvised washroom facilities are basic, the room might once have been a byre; a row of water butts and buckets are lined up along one wall with troughs, of the kind used for watering livestock, lining the middle of the room. Levi snatches up a bucket of water, pours it into a trough and plunges his hands in. He starts to feel calmer as he methodically scrubs the dirt and grime from his hands, watching in detached fascination as the blood and the mud swirl in the water turning it a deep rusty brown. Levi wonders vaguely whose blood it is; it could be his own, or Isabel’s, possibly even Erwin’s. There had been so much blood, so much that even the torrential rain couldn’t wash it all away. He changes the water three times before he’s satisfied his hands are clean, then he tips the water from the trough, refills it again, strips off his shirt and starts on the rest of his body. His torso is littered with cuts, bruises and a few deep gashes, but he still can’t really feel anything.

By the time Levi is clean he feels less disconnected, the world is coming back into focus, and that’s when the pain starts. His body is stiff and aching, the cuts and abrasions stinging painfully and his head is throbbing. He’s shaking so violently that his teeth are almost chattering, though whether from the cold or the shock he has no idea. He pulls the fresh clothes on quickly, but he’s still shivering when he returns to the main hall. _Fuck Levi, get it together_ , he tells himself, but he can’t. All he can do is stand there shivering and staring dumbly at the three kit bags lined up against the back wall; his, Isabel’s, Farlan’s. And he doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to think about them. Doesn’t want to think about how they trusted him. Doesn’t want to think about how Farlan always thought he was so smooth and so fucking smart. How Isabel called him big bro and just didn’t give a fuck. They had believed in him, relied on him, and in return for that belief, it had been Levi’s job to look out for them, to watch their backs and see them through. But he had let them down, he had let them down so fucking badly. He hadn’t even been there when they died. And all for what? 

Levi had broken his own cardinal rules with Farlan and Isabel; never trust anyone, never let anyone get too close, never take responsibility for anyone’s actions but his own. They had trusted him, he had let them down and they had died as a result. They should never even have been here in the first place. He should have listened to his gut instincts and kicked that shady fucker out of the house the first time he came calling with his promises of gold and a life on the surface. He should never have let Farlan talk him into going ahead with the scheme. He must be a fucking idiot. When had Farlan’s schemes ever ended in anything but disaster? Levi feels a sharp flare of anger, if Farlan hadn’t been so confident they could double cross the “certain man” they would never have left the underground and they would still be alive. The brief flare of anger is instantly replaced with a bitter stab of grief. Despite what blondie had said, they were dead because of him. It’s his fault, because he had been to weak to stop them. If he had, they would sill be alive in the underground, okay it was a shitty existence, but at least they’d have been alive and they had their own patch of turf. 

But Levi knew it wouldn’t have lasted, and Farlan had known it too, that’s why he’d been so desperate to get out. They might have reached the top of the shit heap, but reaching the top and staying there were two very different things, and Levi knew that no matter how carefully he watched their backs, one day, there would be some other kid who wanted it more then him, some other poor bastard who would claw his way to the top of the midden, and then their time would be up. Levi had sees if happen countless times before, fuck, that’s how he’d got there himself. He’d had been the one who was hungry enough for it and ruthless enough to claw his way up the shit heap, it didn’t matter who he had to climb over to get there, as long as he reached the top. But from the moment Levi had reached the summit he knew his days were numbered. Maybe it was better to die out here under the sky, beyond the walls than to breathe his last in the gutter with a knife in his back.

But what angered him most was that he hadn’t seen it coming. Levi prided himself on always being several steps ahead of the game, always being able to anticipate what was coming next. But they hadn’t stood a chance with Erwin fucking Smith. He had been so far ahead of them that they hadn’t even been in the goddamn game. Erwin had played them right from the start and Levi had been too blind to see it. He had to admit to a grudging admiration for any man with the balls to see a plan through with such ruthless determination, regardless of the cost. Erwin had been right, of course he’d been right; if Levi had taken him out the chance of them all surviving unscathed would have been slim to non existent. And that’s what made him so fucking angry. Levi still can’t shake the feeling that killing Erwin would go some small way to atoning for Isabel and Farlan’s deaths, he already has enough blood on his hands, a little more wouldn’t make any difference. He had never hesitated to kill before and he still isn’t sure what stayed his hand that morning on the battlefield. But once Erwin had started talking, he had felt all that anger, all that furious rage turning back in on himself. It was his fault, his own shitty fucking arrogance…

“Hey!”

The voice in his ear snaps Levi out of his thoughts. He turns around and Hanji is right there in his face, eyes shining with excitement.

“Hey!” they yelp again, fidgeting furiously. “I heard what happened. Shit, I wish I’d been there to see it!”

Levi stares at them dumbly. What the _fuck_ are they talking about?

“How many was it? Someone said four, someone else said five and at least one deviant. On your own? In those conditions! I can’t believe I missed it! I was on the other side of the trees couldn’t see a damn thing through all that rain.”

Levi is still staring at them, in mute disbelief, mouth hanging open. Suddenly Hanji registers his expression and their face falls. 

“Oh. Oh shit, sorry. I know I get a bit over excited. I should have said, sorry about your friends, Isabel, and what was his name again?”

“Farlan.” Levi answers through gritted teeth.

“Yeah right, Farlan, sorry. They were good kids. Sorry, it’s tough.”

Hanji casts their eyes down for a moment but then they’re bouncing up on their toes again and they actually grasp Levi by one shoulder. Levi freezes. 

“And what’s with you and Erwin?’ They continue, oblivious to the palpable aura of violence curling off Levi. “I heard you guys were all part of one of his grand plans. We were wondering what he as up to, me and Mike, you know, why he was so keen to recruit you from the underground. It’s hard to keep up with Erwin, he’s always one step ahead of everyone else. He’s brilliant though, always knows what he’s doing. But yeah, sorry about Isabel and whatshisname.”

Something in Levi snaps and before he knows what he’s doing he has Hanji against the wall, a knife at their throat. The blade is in his hand before he can think, he’s not even sure where it came from; knives have habit of finding their way into his hands without conscious thought on his part. 

“Farlan, his name is…was Farlan.” Levi spits.

Hanji’s eyes go wide with shock, mouth falling open into a perfect silent O. It takes a moment for the room to fall silent and one second longer for Levi to feel the cold edge of a blade at the back of his neck. For a moment the only sound in the room is the quiet sobbing. 

“Drop it.”

It’s Mike. Of course it’s Mike. He’s always there, like a fucking watch dog. Levi is automatically calculating his chances, where his escape routes are, how many of the corps he could take out before they cut him down. 

“I said drop it.”

The blade presses into his neck. Levi doesn’t move, but at the back of his mind he knows this is crazy, he has no desire to kill Hanji, sure they might be a bit weird, but hell, the whole Survey Corps is a refuge for the damaged, the driven and the insane, but that’s no reason to kill them. Hanji might be crazy but they were the only one who went out of their way to try and make them feel welcome. It’s too late to back down now though, he’s in too deep.

That’s when a second voice cuts through the silence. 

“Levi.” 

The blade pulls away from his neck and Erwin’s hand is on his arm, lowering it slowly from Hanji’s throat.

“Levi, come with me.”

Hanji exhales a long breath and laughs nervously as Levi’s arm drops and he turns around. Erwin is standing behind him, his hair is wet, shirt sleeves rolled up, he’s not wearing his harness and doesn’t seem to be armed. Mike is standing behind him scowling, blade drawn. 

“Come on.”

Erwin’s hand is still on his arm and he’s pulling him away from Hanji. Levi follows him through the hall and out into the courtyard, he’s not sure why, maybe because its easier than standing there with everyone staring at him with that familiar soul destroying mix of horror and pity. He’s still holding the knife but Erwin makes no attempt to make him drop it. He just keeps walking and Levi, because he no longer knows what he’s doing, follows in his wake. 

“Where are we going?”

Levi finds his voice as they cross the courtyard and skirt around the side of the outbuildings. 

“Nowhere in particular.”

“We must be going somewhere.”

“No, not really.”

“Then why are we out here?”

“You looked like you could use some air.”

Levi snorts and shakes his head. 

They continue past the makeshift stables until they reach the small paddock they’ve built up to corral the horses. It’s only when he stops walking that Erwin finally drops Levi’s arm. He leans back against the paddock gate and fixes his gaze on him. 

“Are you all right?”

Levi narrows his eyes, trying to figure out what Erwin’s getting at. It can’t be that simple.

“Shouldn’t you be asking four-eyes that?”

“I will, later. Hanji’ll be fine, they’re a bit excitable, but they’ve survived worse. I should warn you though; they’ll probably be even more fascinated by you now. You’ll get no peace.”

The cool evening air does seem to have cleared Levi’s head a little; his anger has burned out and it leaves him feeling small, and cold and ashamed. The knife is still in his hand but Erwin is talking to him in a perfectly reasonable, civilised manner, as if Levi hadn’t just tried to kill one of his comrades, hell, as if he hadn’t just tried to kill him. And Levi, quick street-smart Levi, who always knew what was going down, who could always see what was coming around the next corner, hasn’t a fucking clue what’s going on anymore. Farlan and Isabel are dead, their grand scheme has gone to shit, and he’s standing there clutching a blade, making small talk with the man he’s been trying to kill for the last fortnight. Erwin, for his part, simply ignores his bewilderment, and pays no attention to the knife in his hand.

“I didn’t want to kill Hanji.” Levi blurts out suddenly. He feels he has to say something, and he doesn’t really know what else to say.

“I know. Though you’re probably one of the few people here who doesn’t. Hanji drives most people crazy.”

Erwin’s gazing out over the paddock now, where the horses are grazing. 

“I wasn’t really thinking straight,” Levi continues, “fuck, I can’t even remember what they said.”

“Don’t worry, Hanji rubs most people up the wrong way, but they mean no harm.”

Levi’s head is starting to throb again. It’s all too fucking surreal.

“What the fuck is this?” he snaps.

“What is what?” Erwin turns around looking genuinely confused.

“This! You. This…talking.”

Levi gestures towards Erwin, forgetting he’s still clutching the knife until Erwin steps back and lifts his hands.

Suddenly it dawns on Levi, what it’s all about.

“I said I would stay didn’t I? You don’t believe me do you?”

Erwin smiles slightly, a faint ghost of a thing.

“You think I’ll run at the first opportunity don’t you?” Levi continues, scowling at Erwin.

“No, not at all.” Erwin shakes his head and his hair falls forward into his eyes, “I think you’re a man of your word Levi.”

“What the fuck?” Levi feels like his grip on reality is starting to slip. “Who even fucking talks like that? What are you, some kind of fucking idiot?”

“Perhaps. But I believe in you.”

Levi has no response to that. Erwin’s gazing at him, deadly serious, but there’s something in his eyes, something else there that Levi can’t even begin to understand.

Levi feels like the whole word has shifted beneath him. Precarious as his position had been in the underground, he had always known his place, known the boundaries of his territory, the people he could trust. Now it’s all gone and there’s no going back. It’s only been a few weeks but Levi knows that some other desperate kid will have fought their way to the top in his absence. And he’s so tired, he’s so fucking tired of it all, he just doesn’t have the energy to start from the bottom again.

Levi scrubs his hand over his eyes, utterly at a loss. When he looks up again, Erwin is digging in his pocket, then he holds one closed first out towards Levi. 

“Here, this is for you.” 

Levi snaps his knife closed and Erwin places a bloody scrap of cloth in his hands. Levi has to stop himself recoiling in horror from the filthy thing in the split second it takes him to realize what it is. It’s a Survey Corps patch.

“Farlan’s.” Erwin speaks the name that’s stuck in Levi’s throat. “We couldn’t retrieve Isabel’s. I’m sorry.” 

And he is, he actually looks sorry, like he fucking cared. Like Levi and Farlan hadn’t been the only people who every cared about Isabel in her whole shitty fucking life.

“Some people might think it’s a bit morbid, but it’s how we remember the ones that fall, often it’s all that’s left, it reminds us they lived.”

Levi has to swallow hard before he can force the words from his mouth.

“Did you…did you go back for this?”

“No,” Erwin shakes his head, “Mike did.”

“Mike?” As far as Levi is concerned Mike just wants to fucking kill him. “Why would Mike?”

“The longer you survive…” Erwin stops himself, takes a deep breath. “The longer you’re with the Survey Corps, the more these things matter. Mike’s been here longer than most.”

Levi looks up at Erwin and it’s almost like he’s seeing him for the first time. Despite the fact that he’s has been watching Erwin for weeks, Levi has quite deliberately never looked at him. Erwin Smith has only ever been a target, an obstacle to be removed. Looking at him now, Levi recognised the same weariness and horror he feels deep down in his own bones. He’s just a man. Just a man with too much blood on his hands, carrying the weight of too many dead.

Levi wonders how much death Erwin and Mike have seen, how many soldiers, how many friends, have they seen die? Levi saw enough death in the underground, thought he’d become numb to it, but there is something about the senseless devastating carnage cause by the Titans that shakes him to the core. Suddenly he’s looking down at Isabel’s head lying in the mud, blind eyes staring up at him, the torn corpse that had once been Farlan tossed aside like a used bloody rag, the long line of bodies shrouded in green.

“Levi, are you all right?”

He startles. Erwin’s hand is on his shoulder and he’s looking down at him, brows drawn together, eyes clouded. He glances down at the hand resting on his shoulder and Erwin withdraws it quickly. 

“Sorry…” he trails off and smiles faintly, apologetically, and Levi has no idea why.

The bandage wrapped around Erwin’s hand is dirty and there’s fresh blood seeping through.

“That was a stupid fucking thing to do.”

Levi nods towards his hand.

“Probably.”

Erwin looks down at his hand, flexes his fingers and winces.

“I could have taken your hand off you know.”

“I know.” Erwin’s looking at him again, with that expression Levi can’t read. “Still, I thought it would be better to loose my hand than my head.”

“Tch. You wouldn’t be much use as a soldier with only one hand.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Did you even bother to wash that? It’s fucking filthy. That’ll kill you. Have you got a goddamn death wish or something?”

“You wouldn’t be the first to ask that.”

The corner of Erwin’s mouth quirks upwards and, if that’s a smile, it’s the strangest one Levi has ever seen.

Without really thinking, Levi grasps Erwin’s wrist and peers at his bandaged hand.

“That’s disgusting. You need to get that off and clean it properly.”

“Okay.” 

Erwin makes no attempt to pull his hand away and Levi can feel the weight of his gaze on the back of his neck.

“Come on then.”

He tugs at Erwin’s wrist and starts leading him back in the direction of the washrooms. It’s only as they approach the courtyard that Levi realizes he’s still gripping Erwin’s wrist. He drops it immediately and shoves his hands into his pockets. Somehow he can’t bring himself to look up at Erwin.

The washroom is dim and quiet, a single torch burning on one wall. Levi picks up what looks like the cleanest bucket, fills it with water and jerks his head towards the torchlight

“Stand over there so I can see what I’m doing.” 

Erwin obediently steps over until he’s standing in the flickering circle of light. Levi places the bucket at his feet, flicks his knife open and looks up at Erwin. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just stands there staring down at Levi. Levi stares back, holding his gaze. He could kill him here, now, it would be so easy. He’s armed, Erwin’s injured, and there’s no one else about. But Erwin’s death would no longer serve any purpose. So much has changed in these last twelve hours. Lifetimes have passed; Farlan’s, Isabel’s, what ever his own life was before. The only connection to them he has left is the bloody badge crumpled in his pocket, this uniform and, somehow, this man standing in front of him. Drawing a deep breath, Levi takes Erwin’s hand in his, slides his knife under the bandages and slices through the dirty cloth. The bandages fall free and Levi sets to work cleaning the wound. His blade has left a clean cut but it’s caked with blood and dirt. Levi wrinkles his nose in disgust and concentrates on cleaning the wound, aware that Erwin’s eyes have never left his face for a second.

“You’re good at this.”

He startles slightly when Erwin speaks, frowning.

“Trust me, I know about blade wounds.”

He keeps working, silently, peering at Erwin’s hand, turning it towards he light, examining it until he’s satisfied it’s clean. Then he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, tears it into ribbons and dresses the wound, tying the bandage off in a neat knot.

“There. You’re done.”

But he’s still holding Erwin’s hand. 

“Thank you.”

And Erwin’s still gazing at him. 

He hasn’t moved his hand, hasn’t even looked at it. It’s still resting in Levi’s palm. Slowly Erwin turns his hand over and curls his fingers around Levi’s, holding him.

“Does this mean you’re done trying to kill me?”

Levi can feel his cheeks burning, and suddenly he’s horribly aware of Erwin’s physical presence. He’s too close, just inches away. Levi’s breath is catching in his throat and he can feel his grip on reality sliding again. He wants to be gone, to be away, to be anywhere but here. He wants to put some distance between him and Erwin, because it feels too fucking dangerous to be this close.

Levi tugs at his hand, but Erwin tightens his grip, oblivious of the wound. He’s running his thumb lightly over the knuckles of Levi’s hand and Levi can feel the blood draining from his head. 

“I’m glad you chose to stay Levi.”

“Yeah, well we’ll see how long it lasts.” Levi’s voice sounds odd, distant. “Maybe it’ll be me you bring back in tarpaulin next time.”

“I hope not.”

Erwin squeezes Levi’s hand. The torchlight is casting shadows under his eyes and Levi could drown in that deep blue gaze. He closes his eyes, slipping under. 

Then Erwin’s hand pulls away, finds its way to his back and he’s pushing him gently towards the door.

“Come on you must be exhausted, you should try and get some rest if you can.”

Levi nods dumbly, his legs feeling like lead again and it’s all he can do to stumble forward. 

Erwin walks him right into the hall. Most of the Corps have bedded down for the night, a few still talking quietly. The sobbing has stopped. Someone has laid Levi’s bed out for him, and he recognises Mike’s long form stretched out where Farlan and Isabel had slept the previous night. He’s probably there to keep an eye on him, but right now, Levi doesn’t care, he’s just glad there will be another warm body nearby.

Erwin’s hand is still resting against his back, a steady warm pressure. His fingers flex against his spine and Levi looks up.

“You’ll be okay Levi.”

It’s not a question, and he wouldn’t know how to answer even if it was, but there’s such certainty shining in Erwin’s eyes that Levi finds he can almost begin to believe it.


End file.
